To Have Everything in Hand
by Kefalion
Summary: A story from a different point of view. Peter Pettigrew's silver hand has a mind of its own, and it serves only itself.


This story was written for the **Semi Finals** of the Fourth Season of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I'm writing as **Beater 1** for **The Wimbourne Wasps**.

Name of round: **A Different Point Of View**

Congrats to our remaining four teams for reaching the semi-finals! We're getting down to the wire now so we're upping the ante for this round; the stars of which will be some very familiar, but special objects.

These objects are capable of having their very own mind, will, consciousness, thoughts, feelings, sensations, memories, and possessing their host's mind and body. And you've guessed it - you will be writing from the point of view of your given object in your stories. What does the Sorting Hat think about at night? Who does the Marauder's Map secretly spy on? The questions are endless.

There are no restrictions in terms of first or third person perspectives, but you must make sure your objects are portrayed as sentient in your entry. Good luck!

Wimbourne Wasps: **Peter Pettigrew's Silver Hand**

These were the prompts I'm using to block our opponents, the Holyhead Harpies:

1\. (word) heartbeat  
4\. (word) sly  
10\. (emotion) paranoia

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own any part of the world J.K. Rowling has created; it's all hers, from Diagon Alley to Hogwarts to all the people living there.

I can't thank you enough for betaing my dear beta savvy Wasp. Sophie. You. Are. Amazing. And Wonderful. Thank you! Buzz, buzz!

And a huge, black and yellow thank you to paperclippe who also helped me with the story.

 **WARNING:** This isn't anything bad, at all, just a heads up that the style I used in this story uses a lot of sentence fragments. It felt right and is very much intentional.

 **PS.** Word-count provided by MS Word—

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 **To Have Everything in Hand  
** _Words: 1 045_

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A heartbeat in the dark: ba-Dum, ba-Dum, ba-Dum. Awareness creeps silently as pressure pushes blood through veins of silver and magic. He... He is he, but his senses are dulled. He possesses neither true sight nor any true hearing. He cannot seem to move. He does not even seem to be breathing. Yet, he is thinking, as is someone else. Alien impressions impose themselves upon his conscience. Awe. Bright, incredulous admiration. Relief. A breath held that can be let out. Tense muscles that can relax. And yet, the emotions are no more than a flimsy overlay to the permeating fear. There is an anxiety that grows stronger the more attention he gives it. This other being, whose heartbeat is all around him, pulsing through him, utterly reeks of fear. It is unadulterated dread. He recoils from the emotion like a child touching a hot stovetop. Fear is unseemly. It is weakness. It is unacceptable and must be obliterated. Only the strong may survive, and survival is paramount, the most basic thing worth aspiring to. Though...

A cackle drowns out the beating heart. Laughter reverberates. It is his own. Cold. High. Without humour, but ringing with satisfaction.

Yes, of course! Fear in others is different from fear belonging to himself. Fear in others can be used, and this fear is not his own. He senses it surrounding him, mingling with his own thoughts and experiences; still, it is alien. This is good. Weakness in others is easily exploited. The weak flock to the strong. Migrating distances and crossing barriers. Betraying whomever they have to. They do it because they know that they cannot save themselves. Even though they are pathetic, they are not completely without use, not to someone who knows how to capitalise on all resources. He is one who knows this.

He is...

He is Lord Voldemort. Only... He is not. He is less. A fragment. A thought. A small piece of the whole. Magic made real and given something resembling life. A five-fingered limb of flexible, conjured metal. An artificial hand to replace one that was sacrificed to a higher purpose.

He is a gift to a good servant. Yes. But also a failsafe. Lord Voldemort suspects betrayal. Weakness leads to betrayal. Fear of death, punishments, pain. His tools are a two-edged sword. They keep his people close. At the same time, if not used appropriately, they can lead the weak astray. Peter Pettigrew—Wormtail—has claimed and forsaken loyalty before. Pettigrew crawled to Lord Voldemort's side out of fear once, then twice. In between, he hid. Cowering. Living comfortably as a treasured house pet. He has been useful, but he is likely to stray again. He cannot be trusted. No one can be trusted.

They are cowards. All who deserted him when he fell from power are craven. Malfoy. Nott. Avery. Mcnair. None of them are truly on his side. Only Lord Voldemort is on Lord Voldemort's side. He is in a position to protect himself. If he is sly, being an appendage to Pettigrew can be useful. He knows his goals and he will not fail. He will protect himself, now and always. He has to. No one else will.

He is weak now. There is no denying it. Not because of fear, but because he has little to no control. He cannot influence Pettigrew. He cannot influence the world. It is highly unsatisfactory. He is aware, however. He has a mind. He has will. He can change his fortune and grasp that which should be his. Power and influence. He need only be patient.

...oöo...

It takes time, but he gathers strength. Each time Pettigrew uses magic, it is channelled first through his substance, then into the wizard's wand. He siphons away some energy with every cast spell, using it to grow stronger, grow more aware, grow better able to use Pettigrew's senses to take in the world around them. He is no longer blind and deaf. He sees with Pettigrew's eyes, hears with his ears. He has not acted yet. He is only vigilant, ever watchful, waiting silently for the moment when one of the wizards sworn to his service falls short.

After taking even more of Pettigrew's magic for himself, he begins to become more connected to himself. Pettigrew's emotions and thoughts remain the strongest, yet slivers of Lord Voldemort are available to him. He can tell his fuller self's state of mind. It mirrors his own. His thoughts are filled with the quest for power and his ensured survival. There is also suspicion towards those who profess themselves loyal.

He has always been skilled at spotting lies. It was one of the first lessons he taught himself. He listens to every word spoken. Watches every expression and minute twitch. He is observant of any sign that can give away a secret, a carefully hidden deceptive thought.

During school holidays and at meetings, he watches Snape especially carefully. He knows that he is meant to do so. It is part of the reason why Pettigrew was sent to the dark and dreary house at Spinner's End. Snape is convincing in his dedication to the cause, to his Lord. It does not mean that he does not warrant careful watching. Living under Dumbledore's thumb for a decade is bound to influence any man, even a stubborn, self-serving one with a dark inclination.

Watching Snape is made difficult by the man's obstinate habit of staying away from Pettigrew. Not that anyone can be blamed for fleeing the meek wizard's company. Snape prefers to be alone and always seeks a room where he cannot be disturbed. Most of his time is spent in the potions laboratory he has set up in his home. Seldom does he entertain guests. On such occasions, he commandeers Pettigrew's senses and observes them.

It is impossible to tell what they have all done during his absence. He cannot tell who has learned to better protect their mind, who has grown complacent and pleased with the life the mawkish Ministry promote. Anyone. Everyone is a potential threat.

When they show their true selves he will be ready to act. To end them. He will continue to accumulate stolen power. To listen. To watch. Vigilant. Establishing control. Always.

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 **The End**

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 **A/N 25th February 2017**

When I read what I was supposed to do this round I was about ready to throw in the towel. A little bit later I got an idea for the story, however, and my feelings turned around. Throw Tom Riddle/Voldemort in there and I'll always be able to handle it. So, that is what I did. I have the hand Voldemort's mind. I don't think of it's as a Horcrux, but Dumbledore seemed to think, at least a little bit, that Voldemort's power might act similar to a Horcrux, so I'll roll with it. I rather enjoyed writing in this style too. Not being so prim and proper, but rather being slightly more stream of consciousness. I hope you enjoyed it too. Please let me know!


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